


The New Ivy Town Chronicles

by MachaSWicket



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Anniversary, F/M, Fluff, Look I fixed it, what if oliver didn't act like a prat in 4x08 and ruin everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 05:12:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10073579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MachaSWicket/pseuds/MachaSWicket
Summary: SUMMARY:  February 27, 2017.This is geneeste's fault entirely. Please seethis tumblr post for details.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geneeste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneeste/gifts).



 

 

**February 27, 2017**

 

Felicity grumbles awake to the soothing scent of coffee being brandished near her face, and the amused voice of her husband. She is torn between the warm, doze-y comfort of her sun-drenched bed, and the always appealing option of tugging Oliver down on top of her to wake her up properly. Oh, and also there’s the coffee. 

Hmmm, _decisions_.

“Felicity,” Oliver says, trailing his fingers along her cheekbone. She can tell from the proximity of his voice that he’s crouched on the floor on her side of the bed, but she scrunches her nose, turning her face a little more into her pillow. Because _ugh_ , mornings. 

Even if she feels pretty content and well-rested, there’s still all the annoying _waking up_  to do. “Sleepy,” she mumbles.

He huffs a laugh. “Felicity, you have to wake up. I brought you food and coffee, and as soon as you’re properly caffeinated, I promise you gifts.” 

She blinks her eyes open and asks, “Gifts as in orgasms?” He’s gorgeous -- his hair all sleep-rumpled, his scruff extra scraggly, and those intense eyes of his focused on her. Doesn’t hurt that he’s wearing only navy boxer-briefs, either. “You’re an excellent gift-giver,” she tells him, waggling her eyebrows in an overly suggestive manor.

But in her defense --  _he’s only wearing navy boxer-briefs_. So. Yeah.

Oliver gives her one of those stupidly beautiful smiles, then leans in and kisses her softly. “How about gifts _and_ orgasms?”

“Mmmmm.” She shifts beneath the blankets, stretching and then pushing herself up onto one elbow and making grabby hands at the over-sized mug of coffee in his hands. She takes a generous sip, savoring the caffeine she _swears_  she can feel starting to kick in already.

When he shifts, pushing upright, she scooches over automatically to give him room. He sits by her hip, facing her as she readjusts to sit up with her back against the headboard, and leans in to kiss her properly. “Happy anniversary,” he whispers against her lips.

“Oh!” She pulls back, eyes wide. “I didn’t forget!”

Oliver laughs. “I know.” He’s taken the day off of work to celebrate, and Felicity _swore_ that she’ll leave her phone and her tablet and her laptop off _all day_ , and will not secretly use his phone to call and check in with Curtis.

Starting up a startup is actually a ton of work, as it turns out. But despite her workaholic tendencies being honed to a fine point with Smoak Technologies, Oliver made her _promise_  to spend all day with him.

Which isn’t like a hardship, so she happily agreed. And she’s almost _positive_  she’ll be able to go the whole day without calling Curtis to check in. _Pretty_  sure. Probably do-able.

Whatever. The important part is she and Oliver have been married a whole year. Mostly blissfully, despite several...  _misunderstandings_  along the way. They’re excellent at making up, though.

Felicity puts her coffee on the night stand and cups his scruffy cheeks, pulling him closer. “Happy anniversary, husband.” She kisses his smile.

Oliver lays his hand on her legs over the blanket and eases closer. “Are we leading with gifts or orgasms?” he murmurs against her mouth.

Felicity pulls back to consider all the wonderful options and finally notices the wooden tray safely on the other side of the bed, with two plates, cranberry juice for Oliver, and a single white rose in a bud vase. Her chest blooms with happiness. “You made breakfast,” she says, delighted.

Oliver leans over, stretching to catch hold of the tray and slide it up the semi-rumpled covers, pausing briefly to rescue his juice before pushing it the rest of the way to her side. “Blueberry pancakes and fresh whip cream,” he confirms.

Felicity perks up. “And a strawberry Pop-Tart,” she notes with a clap of her hands.

With a bemused yet somehow resigned chuckle, Oliver nods. “And a strawberry Pop-Tart.”

“You really do love me,” she says happily.

“I really do,” he agrees. He picks up a dark green box which, upon closer inspection, is a velvet jewelry box. “Gift,” he announces, holding it out to her with a smile.

“Oliver,” she chides, “first anniversary is _paper_.”

“I know,” he says, looking oddly smug for a man who bought her jewelry instead of, just for example, a handmade, subtly-designed journal and a framed print of a certain painting that _someone_  had seemed very drawn to when they spent a few hours of their honeymoon at the Agung Rai Museum of Art, because _paper anniversary_.

“We agreed not to go crazy with gifts,” she points out, giving the box in his hand a _very_ judgmental look. Sure, it cost a _bit_  of money to get that print shipped over, and then framed, but Oliver still has a tendency to go overboard, like he’s still trying to make things up to her – including some things he only ever did in some alternate timeline that Barry erased and Oliver can’t even remember. If this foolish man dusted off some jewel-encrusted _statement piece_  from the Queen vault or, _worse_ , bought her some diamond-covered jewelry, she will kill him.

“I know,” he repeats, grinning at her now, wholly unrepentant.

“Oliver!”

“Would you please just open it?” He pushes the box into her hands, running his thumb along her fingers. “I promise it will all make sense.”

With a long-suffering sigh, she lifts the box closer and opens it, expecting something extravagant, despite the fact that she’s told him repeatedly she is a funky, quirky jewelry type of girl, not a diamonds and pearls girl. When she sees the necklace inside, it takes her a few moments to figure out the scuffed bright green circle with the white “F” in the middle is an old typewriter key. It’s in a simple silver setting, shown off as if it were the huge ruby she half-expected from him. The typewriter key is attached to its chain with delicate silver feather that looks for all the world like the fletching of an arrow. “Oliver,” she breathes, raising tear-filled eyes to him. “It’s beautiful.”

“You’re my favorite typist,” he tells her with a small smile. “And since you have little use for paper-based _anything_ , I figured this was a nice nod to our paper anniversary.”

She sniffles, and a tear escapes, and her heart is so full some moments with Oliver that she can’t verbalize. His gift is meaningful, and thoughtful, and evocative, and _still_  so very her. She throws her arms around his neck and tugs him closer. “I love you,” she says, squeezing him tight. “Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“Yeah?” he asks, and he actually sounds a little unsure.

“Yeah,” she tells him, her voice unsteady. She pulls back just enough to kiss him. With intent. When she finally pulls her mouth from his, they’re laid out diagonally across the bed, his delicious weight on her, and the breakfast tray digging into her shoulder. She pauses for a moment to very carefully set her gift down on the edge of the tray, then slides the tray towards the foot of the bed. “I changed my mind,” she breathes.

“Hmmm?” He’s very busy sucking little marks into her neck, and she grins at the ceiling.

“Orgasms, then breakfast,” she tells him. “Then gifts for you.”

“You want me more than the strawberry Pop-Tart?” His stubble tickles her throat as he shifts against her.

“I always want you more than strawberry Pop-Tarts.”

Oliver shifts to smile down at her. “I’m so damn happy I married you.”

She beams at him. “I’m so damn happy I married you, too.”

-30-

**Author's Note:**

> For the curious, here’s the necklace (picture an F instead of V):
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Source: [Etsy FunkyTypes shop](https://www.etsy.com/shop/FunkyTypes)


End file.
